Gravely bidding the learned man cool his ardor, and take repose in the easy chair, the oracular seat in which he gave audience to clients, she detailed the circumstances of the meeting with the cardinal in the garden. But who pointed out to Mademoiselle the locality? Who dictated the stratagem—for such it appeared to be—as the garden was not the usual gate of egress to the minister? These questions the maiden solemnly declared that she must not answer—under whosever guidance she had acted, Monsieur Giraud might perceive that it had been successful. He must not even make further inquiries, or she would withhold secrets yet in store. It was not perhaps delicate or befitting, that one of her age should obtain intelligence from sources which she dare not reveal to her father, or her father’s friend—yet Monsieur Giraud must remember that the _rôle_ she played in the affair was altogether unsuitable to her sex, and parental affection alone had stimulated her to endure what she had undergone. As the advocate had encouraged the resolution, he must not complain of an inevitable consequence—as she had ventured on a business, and strayed into haunts fitting only a man to explore, it must be permitted her to retain a privilege of manhood—the keeping her own secret. There was no answering this positive declaration, so the wondering, but good natured lawyer, shifted ground, and requested a recital of such secrets as he might be permitted to hear. At the mention of the Count De Fontrailles, a flush overspread his pale face, and when Mademoiselle had concluded the narration, he sat awhile in deep thought. “Fontrailles!” cried the advocate, breaking silence, “he was one of three whom I suspected—but I am glad he is the man, for if I mistake not, I hold that which will ruin him with the cardinal. Shall we consult with Monsieur De Pontis to-morrow morning? I might obtain an order at the bureau this evening. No! he is useless to our plans. Mademoiselle and myself, and,” he added, looking significantly at the maiden, “her unknown friend, with his budget of secrets, are a trio equal to the emergency. But tell me, Marguerite, have you not been to the Tuileries to-day?” She assured him that she had not. “Then my conjectures are all vain,” cried Giraud, “but let us to council.” He pointed out with clearness the position in which the affairs of De Pontis now stood in relation to all the parties with whom he was unfortunately engaged. The suit of Pedro Olivera gave but little concern. If all the presidents of that court were not biased, he thought he should be able to disprove the equity of Pedro’s claim, through documents in his possession, or failing this he could produce many sets-off, moneys lent to the claimant of which he acknowledged no account, of itself tending to cast suspicion on the suitor, and at any rate convict him of dishonesty.